


Not Forgotten

by AngelOtaku121



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Gen, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-30
Updated: 2013-08-30
Packaged: 2017-12-25 01:40:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/947113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelOtaku121/pseuds/AngelOtaku121
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He had to die. There was no debate; it was a fact. There were no questions. No why, how, or when. He just knew he had to die, and it was going to be soon."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Forgotten

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired after the news of the passing of a family member. It encapsulates, for me, the pain of grief and loss. It was written on 9-15-12.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Soul Eater.

He had to die. There was no debate; it was a fact. There were no questions. No why, how, or when. He just knew he had to die, and it was going to be soon.

Surprisingly, he was calm. The idea of death didn't scare him. He had lived with is constantly; he'd seen people die; he'd killed others. Death was a constant in his life-he was even named after it! So, no. The concept of death held no fear for the young man. At least, not the concept of his own death. But the possibility that his plan would fail, that death would claim the others…That was too terrifying to dwell on.

So, I suppose, there was a "why" in this equation. There was a definite reason for the actions he would soon take. It was an exchange: his death for their lives. Of course, the witch may not think that six lives in exchange for one was a fair trade. He himself certainly didn't. But perhaps the idea of the power that could be gained from killing a shinigami would be attractive enough that the witch would let the others go.

In the young reaper's opinion, his power wasn't anything special. It was power over mortals-nothing more, nothing less. The world would move on without him. It could not, however, continue without them. The world needed everything they had to offer. Maka's bravery and strength. Soul's wit and ability to stay cool. Black*Star's exuberance. Tsubaki's calm reasoning. And the world, at least, his world, could not continue without the presence of the two weapons he'd come to consider family. Yes, the world needed each and every one of them. It didn't need him.

Maybe someday he would be important, but in the present, he was useless. The little good he did would be eclipsed by the evil that would accumulate if his six friends were to die. Not to mention all of the people who would miss them. In particular, Spirit Albarn would be devastated by the loss of his only daughter. Of course, his own father…No. He pushed the thought from his head. His father understood these things. His father would be able to deal with it and move on.

The boy began his journey to the place where he was certain his friends were being held captive. He had come back from meeting with his father on a rainy April morning to discover that his friends had all disappeared. Then followed a week of intense searching until he'd finally found the witch's lair. It was now the eighth day since they'd been captured. His father was trying to formulate a plan of rescue, but the young man knew it was hopeless. They would not be able to sneak up on the lair; such was the nature of its location in a cave at the top of a hill overlooking the terrain. They could not hope to overpower the witch, for if she saw an army coming, she would not hesitate to slay all of her captives. It was the perfect strategic location. No, whatever plan his father could concoct would fail. There was only one way to get the six back.

Just on the outskirts of the city in which he'd lived his whole life-the city named after his father-the reaper stopped. He craned his head, looking to the top of the large hill before him. A dark hole marred the rocky slope of the hill, covered by a hazy purple barrier. Within, he was sure, his friends were held. He steeled himself and began to ascend.

He reached the entrance to the cave without opposition, most likely because the witch could see he was alone and unarmed. Within the cave, beyond the magical barrier, he could see his friends: tired, battered, but alive. His attention was drawn from them by the emergence of a witch. Vampira, she was called, due to her alarming bat motif. The two made eye contact. The silence stretched. The young man was the first to break it.

"You must release them."

The captive six all looked up at the sound of his voice, some in disbelief, and others in hope.

The witch guffawed. "That's a hefty favor you ask of me, boy. Six souls that I've been priming for delivery to my mother, Celeba. What could you possibly have that would match that price?"

He looked over at the magic prison before answering, which was a mistake. He almost lost his resolve. He made eye contact with Liz, and from that one glance, she knew what he was about to do. She began to shake her head and scream at him. He couldn't hear her due to the soundproof barrier, but he could read her lips. She was telling-no, begging-him not to do this. He looked away. He couldn't back out now.

"My soul. My soul in exchange for theirs."

The witch looked at him as though he'd lost his mind. But then, her gaze drifted up to the three horizontal white stripes that marred his black hair. She understood.

"You," she whispered. "You're Death's boy."

"Indeed, I am," he said quietly.

The witch mulled it over. She could gain immense power from this transaction. She would be feared above all other witches. It was impossible to refuse. It was too tempting.

"However," the boy continued. "I must have your word that you will release them and never again return to Death City."

The witch chanted and glowed crimson. That way, the deal was binding. If she reneged, she would die. She gave her word and smiled grimly.

"Are you ready to die, reaper boy?"

He thought about it. Was he ready to die? Yes. He'd prepared himself for this. He wasn't afraid. He stood straighter and closed his eyes.

The witch pressed a hand to his chest and uttered a mantra. Much like a vampire bat sucks the blood from its victims, Vampira absorbed the young shinigami's life. He fell to his knees. The witch cackled and disappeared. The magic barrier dissipated.

He could hear the others rushing over to him, but his vision was blurred. His breaths were short and fast. A dull, aching cold swept through his limbs. His heart stuttered out a faint beat. So this is what dying felt like.

Hands gently grabbed his shoulders and Liz's face came into focus. She had tears in her eyes as she laid him down gently, resting his head in her lap. She spoke a single word.

"Why?"

There was that question again. That "why." Why did he do this? Why did he have to die? He took a shaky breath.

"It was the only way to save you."

Liz shook her head, tears running down her cheeks. Her hands were warm as they brushed hair back from his forehead, but he was so cold.

"The world needs you. All of you. I'll die here, but you'll keep on living."

"But, Kid-" Liz choked back a sob. Behind her, the others had gathered, all with somber expressions. Liz spoke once more. "Thank you."

The boy smiled weakly and looked up at the faced around him. This wasn't such a bad way to die. He was surrounded by those he loved. In the end, that's all anyone can ask for. He took a last, shuddering breath and was still.

Watching someone else's life fade is not something one ever wishes to experience, especially when that someone is someone you hold near your heart. Watching the young man in her arms die was not something Liz ever wanted to experience again. To see with a breaking heart as ever breath became labored, every word spoke, a battle. And then, to see his body relax totally in eternal sleep. To know that she would never scold him again for his obsessions, never see his bright grin, never fight another battle with him. To know that he was gone.

He had given his life for them. Died selflessly so that they could live. And Liz would never forget that. He had made the ultimate sacrifice to ensure that the witch would never return. He was a true hero.

Though his body may be lying coldly on the ground, he would never die. He would live on in everyone he'd met and be remembered with a smile. He was a son, a partner, a friend, a brother.

He was Death the Kid, and he would never be forgotten.


End file.
